


Accidentally on Purpose

by Wikketkrikket



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Albino Peacocks - Freeform, Engagement, Fluff, Holiday, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Wedding, and steve is a troll, everyone is happy, proposal, wedding of the year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 13:25:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wikketkrikket/pseuds/Wikketkrikket
Summary: Tony proposes, mostly by accident. Steve did it on purpose.





	Accidentally on Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> So... the proposal scene was originally the start of a longer fic I had in mind, but I have a different idea now. It seemed a shame to waste it so I decided to tack on an ending and make it into a one shot for the fandom stockings event; and then I couldn't really figure out how it worked and got too embarrassed to give it to anyone so I'm just going to post it as is! Enjoy :)

'Looking good,' Steve had said, because of course he had, because about things like that, at least, he was _perfect_. They had only been dating for four months back then, but if Tony had known dating Cap would turn into such an ego boost, he would have started things a lot sooner.

The first date had been more or less out of pity. Steve had just come out to the team as bi a few days before, and had said he had been bad enough at dating women, so would have no idea how to date men. Tony had told him that for a start off he needed to stop thinking of it as 'dating men' or 'dating women' and try treating them as individuals, and so Steve had asked if he would go to dinner with him and 'show him how it was done'. The smooth bastard.

And somehow, fourteen weeks later, it had come to the point where Steve had been loitering in Tony's private suite in the tower, waiting to see him off to a gala for the Maria Stark Foundation, and apparently enjoying the sight of Tony in his best evening wear.

'Thanks,' Tony had said, playing with his cufflink because he had known that Steve would step forward to fix it for him and Tony sort of loved that, 'You sure you don't want to come? We could soon find you a tux.'

'No, thank you,' Steve had replied, gently moving Tony's hands away and fastening the link himself. 'I'll leave the schmoozing to you.'

'Fine,' Tony had sighed. 'Sure you won't miss me too much?'

'Yep,' Steve had said, settling himself onto Tony's couch. 'I'm going to sit right here on your enormous couch and watch all the shows you hate on your enormous TV.'

'I keep saying, if you like the TV so much I'll get you one.'

'And I keep saying, I only like the TV when I don't have to feel guilty about owning it,' Steve had said, swinging his legs up onto the couch and reaching for the remote.

And that was it. The sight of seeing Steve there, actually comfortable and relaxed instead of rigid and upright, seeing his socks pressed up against the arm of the couch – somehow, that was the moment Tony had realised he loved him. And not in the 'this-is-my-current-partner-aren't-they-great' way, in the 'love-story-for-the-ages, Drew-Barrymore-movie' sort of way. The 'Only-you-forever' sort of way. The 'If-I-mess-this-up-my-life-is-over' way.

At the time, the thought had been terrifying and he'd avoided Steve for almost a week before finally confessing how he felt. Now, as he fastened his own cufflinks for dinner, Tony couldn't help smiling at the memory. What a difference a few years could make. Back then, the idea of loving someone that much had filled him with cold dread; now, it was nothing but comforting warmth. Back then he had been so convinced something would go wrong, that he would screw up, that he couldn't be this lucky, but he hadn't thought anything like that for a long time now. It was kind of hard to be insecure when someone like Steve Rogers loved you. Mostly, anyway.

Finished with the cuff links, Tony adjusted his bow tie and gave himself one last look over in the mirror. He looked pretty damn good, if he did say so himself, and he was even ready at the time Steve had told him to be, so extra brownie points for him. He left the bedroom, exiting directly into the lounge. He'd expected to find his boyfriend waiting, but there was no-one. The white couches were empty, and a quick glance towards the small open plan kitchen was enough to tell him Steve wasn't there either. Maybe the bathroom? But no, the French windows to the deck were open, the night air blowing a draught around his ankles. Tony followed it out.

The view out here never ceased to amaze him. It was one of the reasons he'd hired the place. For their first real trip away together, he'd wanted something special, and Steve had wanted to see Europe when it wasn't, quote, _full of people shooting at him_. So they'd come here, to Italy, and Tony had found them this place, right on the shores of Lake Garda. It wasn't tourist season yet, so it was relatively secluded. At night, nestled in the mountains, looking at the moonlight and the lights from the lodge reflected in the water, it was easy to believe it was just them. Steve was sitting on the wooden bench out on the decking, looking out at the lake and the mountain and stars. He was sketching, charcoal all over his fingers and the knees of his trousers, hands moving quickly, his eyes so intense but his mouth curved up in a smile. The only word for it was rapture. Tony loved to see it, loved how Steve could find such beauty in the world. The only thing he looked at that way was Steve.

'You know you pull the exact same face in bed,' he teased, leaning over to plant a kiss on the top of Steve's head. Steve was way taller than him, and Tony's hair was one of his favourite places to aim for, so Tony took the opportunity to get him back whenever he could. Plus it gave him a chance to admire the sketch of the lake taking shape beneath Steve's skilled hands. He was untrained, but he had talent. Before the war, he'd been planning on going to art school. Sometimes Tony wondered whether, if the Nazis hadn't tried to take over the world, Steve would have made it, if his work would have now been hanging in the Met. One more, little, thing the war had taken away. Then again, if Steve had gone to art school instead of the army, they wouldn't be here now, so Tony wasn't complaining. Anyway, this way the sketches were just for him.

'I do not,' Steve huffed.

'You do,' Tony said, sitting beside him and looking out at the lake. 'I'll put a mirror over the bed and you can see.'

'That is never going to happen,' Steve said, continuing with his work.

Tony let him for a few moments, drinking in the view and the quiet sound of the charcoal scratching, and then said, 'Well, sorry to break this up, but if we don't go now we'll miss the reservation.'

The charcoal snapped on the page. Steve looked at him in horror, and Tony looked back at him in delight, because there he was, immaculate in full black tie, clean and shaved and ready, and Steve was there in only his jeans and an old sweater, bare-footed and hands black with charcoal. He'd even managed to rumple some of the dust through his hair. All of this added up to mean that for the first time _ever_ , he, Tony, had remembered and got ready for their dinner date when _Steve_ was the one who had gotten caught up in his work and forgotten.

Steve stood up, scattering the sticks of charcoal and looking thoroughly panicked. 'Oh, oh no, I'm so sorry Tony, just give me two minutes, maybe we can still make it-'

'Steve, it's fine, just calm down. Look, just sit down, it's fine,' Tony laughed. 'I know fancy dinners aren't your scene anyway.'

'But it's our anniversary dinner, you had to wait so long to even get that reservation and –'

'Forget about it,' Tony said, because something about the crisp air, and the beautiful view, and the way the stars turned to crystal in the water beneath made it impossible to even think about being mad. 'I've had plenty of fancy dinners. Besides, this is kind of nice too.'

'Yeah,' Steve said, sitting back down next to him. 'Yeah, it is. I'm really sorry, Tony.'

'Just shut up and enjoy the view, Cap,' Tony said, letting his head drop onto Steve's shoulder. Steve shuffled behind him.

'If we're going to do this I should go wash my hands,' he murmured, resting his head on top of Tony's own.

'You can try,' Tony said, 'But I'm not moving for the foreseeable future, so...' Without any further prompting, Steve lifted his arm and wrapped it around Tony's shoulders, no doubt leaving smudges on Tony's jacket but Tony couldn't bring himself to care. So what if he was super clingy in a relationship? Just then he wanted to be close to Steve. The jacket could be cleaned. This moment, once it was gone, would be gone forever. The two of them sat quietly, looking out at the waters. A breeze was getting up and the surface of the lake was starting to move.

'The foreseeable future,' Steve repeated thoughtfully. Somehow, in the time they had been sitting quietly together, they had turned so that Tony was now lying against his chest, and Steve had both arms around him, and seemed to have forgotten about the state of his hands because he was rubbing small circles on Tony's back; and despite the fact the bench was hard and uncomfortable, Tony had never felt better in his life. 'It's an odd phrase.'

'Mm?' Tony said, because it really wasn't fair of Steve to expect him to make conversation when he was this relaxed, and when, by all natural laws they should have fallen into lazy kisses by now.

'Yeah.' Unfortunately Steve was obviously only just warming up to his subject. 'I mean, back home - ' This was always how he referred to the forties, as if he had just moved to the States from some other country. 'Back home we had these ideas about how the future would be.'

'Flying cars?' Tony smirked. One of Steve's biggest disappointments on coming to the future, he knew, was that cars still didn't fly. At least, not everyone's did.

'Flying cars.' Steve agreed, 'And settlements on the moon. And everything was going to be made of chrome and steel.' He was still rubbing Tony's back, but quicker now, with open handed strokes. Tony's jacket was never going to be the same, but he didn't care. He squirmed happily, moving to try and encourage Steve to circle wider, but it didn't seem like Steve was even paying attention to what he was doing. 'But, you know, we never thought about society changing. I mean, we all thought there would be world peace. You had to believe it to keep going, to keep fighting. But you never really saw anything about how America would change. I guess most people thought we had it all perfected.'

'You didn't,' Tony reminded him. 'I know you ruffled a few feathers in your time, Rogers.'

Steve jutted his chin up. 'I wasn't going to pretend something was right if it was wrong.'

'Perish the thought,' Tony said, solemnly, trying not to giggle. He was remembering some footage he'd seen of the time the Howling Commandoes were invited for dinner at the White House, and the President had made a welcoming speech, had asked Steve to step forward – only to find out that none of them had turned up, as the administration had refused to allow Gabe Jones to use the front entrance with the others. It had been so hilariously awkward as the President tried to brush it off and sidle away.

'Well, we couldn't have done this, that's for sure,' Steve said, and actually cracked a smile. 'Been in love. Out in the open.'

'There's still plenty that would rather we didn't,' Tony said.

'I don't care about them,' Steve said. 'I can be with you, tell people I'm with you, tell people how I feel about you, and no-one's going to put me in jail for it.'

Tony huffed in amusement. 'I'd like to see them try to put you in jail.'

'I mean it,' Steve continued. 'We can be together here. We could even get married.'

Tony stiffened, but Steve's gentle hands didn't even break their rhythm. Tony looked up at him. Steve had that expression again, that enraptured expression full of love, but this time he was looking at Tony.

'Steve,' Tony said, swallowing hard. 'Do you... do you _want_ to get married?'

And Steve smirked at him, the bastard, that curl to his lips that meant he thought he was being _so funny_ , the expression that drove Tony wild – 'Well, since you're asking, sure,' he said, and then they were laughing, and kissing, and Tony was calling him every bad name he could think of, because, _Steven Grant Rogers did you just trick me into proposing_ , and Steve was laughing and saying _yes_ , over and over, yes to everything, to all of it, and they were going to get _married_ -

And Tony's phone started ringing in his back pocket.

They were sprawled out over the bench, Steve's back pressed up against one end, with one of his arms securely wrapped around Tony's waist and the other stroking his face. Tony was propped up on Steve's shoulders, kissing him. He sighed into Steve's neck at the interruption. Steve reached into Tony's jacket pocket and fished the phone out.

'Leave it,' Tony groaned.

'It's Rhodes,' Steve said, looking at the caller ID and holding it out to him with apologetic eyes. 'You told them only to call if it was an end-of-the-world scenario.'

'It will be the end of the world if I don't get my just-engaged sex,' Tony grumbled, but reluctantly got off him and sat up, answering the phone. 'What?'

It was Rhodes, and the world was going to end if they didn't stop it. Typical.

For a moment, Tony even felt grumpy as he hung up and turned to look at Steve. His fiancé. His soon to be husband. The grumpiness evaporated abruptly, obliterated by a flame of happiness flaring up within him. 'I love you,' he said, because it was all he could find in himself to say, and he started kissing Steve again.

'I love you too,' Steve said, 'But, uh, don't we have to go save the world?'

Tony groaned. 'If we must.'

 

*

 

As it turned out, no, they mustn't. Because it wasn't actually a world-ending scenario Rhodes had called him to, it was a wedding. _Tony's wedding_. Planned in full – and in secret – by Steve. It was big and lavish and excessive and everything Tony loved in a party and Steve didn't, the absolute bastard.

It hadn't all gone according to plan. Steve had planned to propose during their big anniversary dinner, had not planned to get married with traces of charcoal still in his hair, or with smudges still on Tony's jacket. But the rest, he had admitted, was as he had hoped.

They were dancing together at their wedding reception – their wedding reception! - and although the room was full of people, pretty much everyone Tony had ever cared for in his life, his attention was so focused on Steve that he could barely spare them a thought. He was too full of Steve, in his head and his heart and every last gram of him.

'What were you going to do if I said no?' Tony asked.

'Um, the way I remember it, you asked me,' Steve smirked, and Tony huffed. 'Well, we would have just spent a few more days in Italy whilst Sam and Rhodes cancelled all this and I would just have had to hope and pray that nobody would ever speak of it again.'

'It would've been a lot to cancel. You got albino peacocks to wander the grounds.'

'You like albino peacocks. Also, you are not taking an albino peacock home.'

'Nope,' Tony agreed, because while he liked the aesthetic of them, he imagined that would soon wear off when dealing with feeding, and poop, and trying to keep that magnificent plumage clean. 'So, did it at any point in this process occur to you that maybe I'd like some time to enjoy being engaged? That maybe I'd like to have a role in planning my own wedding?'

Looking horrified, Steve turned pale. He _had_ worried about this, Tony realised. 'I... I'm so sorry, Tony, I... I thought it would be romantic.'

And even though Tony had intended to troll him back, he couldn't let Steve worry about it a second longer. So he laughed, rested his head back against Steve's chest and said, 'It is romantic. I love it. I don't know what I did to deserve you.'

It slipped out without his meaning it to. He didn't even need to hear Steve's response to know, at least roughly, what it was going to be.

'Tony,' Steve huffed, but without any real irritation. 'We've been over this. You don't need to 'deserve' it. I love you. You don't need to earn that.'

'I know, I know, I just-'

'And if you did,' Steve continued forcibly, 'You would have done, a hundred times over. Okay?'

It seemed easier to agree, so Tony did, and they went back to dancing, and Tony thought that he may just be happier now than he had ever been in his life.

They left the party early, slipping away to their room before the guests could notice. After all, their engagement had been interrupted; and they had plenty they still wanted to enjoy.

 

 


End file.
